


March Showers

by R00bs_Teacup



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10055864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00bs_Teacup/pseuds/R00bs_Teacup
Summary: Arthur has a runny nose, basically





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/gifts).



When the weather turns in March, it brings with it a gust of rain and freezing winds, Merlin can smell the freshness on it, the pollens and scents of oncoming spring. It brings catkins and buds from the trees, and hope. Merlin loves the turning season, the promise of it. It also brings Arthur a sore throat and runny nose and blocked sinuses. Something about the temperature, or the changing air, has him snuffly and miserable every year. Merlin leans on the ramparts next to Elyan, who’s on duty, and watches the sun come up. It’s raining, a soft, gentle rain that will probably swell as the day progresses and winds come up. 

“How is the king?” Elyan asks, then laughs when Merlin starts. “You get a particular smile, when you think of him.”

“Oh, shut up,” Merlin grumbles, shifting to stand upright. “He’s fine. Grumpy.”

“When I was small, the fields in summer used to make me sneeze something awful. My father would heat water for the steam, and give me hot teas for my throat, and when we could he’d draw a hot bath. I had to share with Gwen, of course,” Elyan says, voice light with amusement and remembered affront at having to share. Merlin grins. 

“Arthur doesn’t share well,” Merlin says. “I’ll suggest a bath, and get him tea with his breakfast. Thanks.”

“Look to him, yeah? He was in pain, yesterday,” Elyan says. 

“Of course,” Merlin says. 

He watches the sun finally get through the cloud, and break out across the city and the forest. He sighs happily, breathing deeply, deeply, getting all the spring inside of him, all the fresh promise. Elyan smiles fondly at him but doesn’t laugh. Merlin slaps him on the shoulder, the way Arthur says is affectionate, and then clatters down the twisting stairs. At the bottom, he ducks through a small door to the servant stairs that run down through the castle. He has to switch stair cases twice to get to the kitchens, and the King’s tray is waiting for him when he makes it, along with a bad tempered cook. Merlin pants out a request for tea, only to have it pointed out to him, already on the tray. Merlin looks around and sees one of the housekeepers at the table, and asks for a boy to draw Arthur a bath. She nods, and Merlin heads to the King’s chambers. 

Arthur’s awake, to Merlin’s surprise. Still buried by a heavy load of blankets, only his head sticking out, hair awry, eyes squinted. Merlin waves, nearly drops the tray, catches it with his magic, and lets it float while he goes to unearth Arthur. Arthur scowls at him, but it softens when Merlin uses his magic to untangle the blankets and fluff the pillows and build Arthur a nice comfy place to sit and rest. Arthur raises a knee and sets his elbow on in, resting his cheek on his hand. He sighs, coughs, and tries to sniff through heavy congestion. 

“Did you sleep well?” Merlin asks, sitting beside Arthur, kicking off his boots and stretching his legs out. The tray settles on his lap and he passes Arthur the tea first. “Try breathing the steam.”

“Can’t breathe,” Arthur grumbles, snuffling constantly even though he’s so blocked up. He wraps himself around the hot cup anyway, and breathes through his mouth, shutting his eyes. 

“Did you sleep? You were awake before I woke you. That only happens when you don’t sleep,” Merlin says. 

“Had a bad dream,” Arthur mutters, rubbing at his face. It doesn’t stop the sneeze - or the three that follow. Merlin passes him a handkerchief and shifts a bit closer so Arthur can lean against him. 

“Anything you want to tell me?” Merlin asks, helping himself to an apple from Arthur’s breakfast. 

“No,” Arthur says.

Blowing his nose makes him cough, and coughing makes him sneeze again. Merlin tries not to laugh at him, but Arthur’s glare through red damp eyes looks like a damp kitten and is so sweet. Merlin reaches over to cup his cheek, laughing, pulling him close to kiss his forehead and cheek and nose. The last makes him sneeze. 

“Bless you. I guess that steam worked,” Merlin says. 

“Sitting up did it,” Arthur says, snuffling into his handkerchief. 

They eat quietly, Merlin going over the day’s duties idly, rearranging everything he can so Arthur doesn’t have much to do. Leon can take training, and Elyan can stand in at council, the council like Elyan despite his ‘low’ birth. He’s clever. Gwaine can receive the Lord coming from the outer lying region in the north, they know one another apparently. Which leaves Arthur with a meeting with Geoffrey which Arthur refuses to postpone or hand off. 

“What’s it even about?” Merlin grumbles. “You’ll be needed this afternoon in court, at least for some of it, they’re signing the treaty Annis sent back. And then this evening you need to at least put in an appearance at the feast. We’re celebrating the start of yet another of your interminable tournaments.”

“I’m not unwell, Merlin,” Arthur snaps, finishing the meat on his plates. 

“You have a chill,” Merlin says. “You haven’t slept, you’ve got a headache that won’t let up so you’re exhausted, and that cough sounds like it’s going to your chest.”

“Shut up,” Arthur says, slumping back on his pillows. There’s a tap at the door, and Arthur raises an eyebrow. Merlin goes to slip out into the outer chamber, and finds one of the kitchen boys waiting patiently. 

“The bath is full, sir,” he says. 

“Thanks. Charlie, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Charlie. It’s hot?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. That was quick. I’ll make sure it’s noted.”

“Thank you sir.”

Charlie jogs off, looking pleased. Merlin wonders if sleeping inside on a bed with good food and, here at least, mostly kindness, makes up for being far from your parents, and having to work where you don’t get to reap the benefit of your labours. It’s not like farming. Merlin’s not sure he’d be able to be a servant for anyone other than Arthur. With Arthur it’s more like being a companion, a friend, and managing things. And now… 

“Merlin!” 

Merlin grins and slips back into the bedroom, climbing back onto the bed. He passes Arthur another handkerchief and rubs his shoulders while he coughs and hacks.

“Yep. Definitely going to your chest,” Merlin says. “I have a bath for you, out there, and the fire’s lit. Are you finished with breakfast?”

“Can you heat the tea again?” Arthur croaks, his face pale and pinched. Merlin touches his cheek and Arthur gives him a tired smile. “My head aches.”

“The bath will help with that. Of course I can warm that for you, though,” Merlin says. “I actually brought some herbs to help the pain. Meadowsweet, I can make a tea.”

Arthur looks at the tea he’s already holding, then gives Merlin a dubious look. Merlin assures him that yes, ‘tea’ is not one thing, and this new one will be different to the one Arthur just drank. Arthur’s not convinced, but he gives an eloquent shrug and passes his cup to Merlin, giving over his trust as well - Merlin knows that Arthur letting Merlin treat him without his understanding what it is Merlin’s doing is not easy for Arthur. Merlin adds plenty of honey to the tea. Arthur wanders out in his britches, and Merlin follows in time to see him sinking into the bath. He makes a disgruntled noise and looks up at Merlin, eyes wide, breathing through his mouth, looking all of five years old. 

“What is it?” Merlin asks, kneeling to give him the tea. 

“It’s not as warm as usual. You have quite spoilt me,” Arthur says. “I’m sure this is quite warm, the boys always take good care when I’m ill.”

“I thought you weren’t ill?” Merlin says, swooshing his hand through the water and heating it. Carefully, because he’s not got impeccable control of this spell, and he doesn’t want to boil Arthur.

“Perhaps a little unwell,” Arthur says, smiling. “If it means you’ll make a fuss of me.”

“Of course,” Merlin says, smiling back. Arthur bites his lip, then tugs at Merlin, getting a hand around the back of his neck and pulling until their lips meet. And now there’s this, this extra warmth and intimacy between them. And Merlin wouldn’t give up his place at Arthur’s side for the world. 

“I need to speak to Geoffrey about succession,” Arthur whispers, still so close, his lips brushing against Merlin’s cheek. When Merlin looks, he’s got his eyes closed, and there’s a very slight tremble in the hand he’s holding Merlin with. “I had named Morgana. It is about time I changed that.”

“More than time!” Merlin yelps, pulling back. “Arthur!”

“I know. I had hope. Don’t abuse me for having hope, for trusting,” Arthur snaps, not opening his eyes, tightening his hold on Merlin. “Don’t.”

“Sorry,” Merlin says, calming himself. “I thought you planned on marrying?”

“Gwen wants her own life. I don’t blame her. I can hardly marry who I want,” Arthur says. “I can hardly marry you, Merlin. Besides, succession would still be an issue. No. If it’s not Morgana, then my cousin is next in line.”

“Who is that?” Merlin asks. Arthur grins, hand firming, and opens his eyes. 

“You’ll never guess.”

“So tell me.”

“A lord by the name of Orkney. King Lot’s son, my mother’s nephew by her sister,” Arthur says, grin spreading. “You’ve met him. He’s going to be overjoyed.”

“I’ve met him?” Merlin asks, smiling back because Arthur looks so gleeful. As yet, Merlin hasn’t got the joke.

“Oh yes. He’s quite fond of you,” Arthur says, then laughs, which makes him cough. 

Before Merlin can get the punchline to the joke, there’s a knock on the door. Arthur sighs and waves a hand, looking tired again. Merlin stands and Arthur slumps against the side of the bath, scooping up water to wash his face, then just sitting with his head in his hands. Merlin hesitates, then draws the screen around Arthur and the fire, and goes to see who’s disturbed them. It’s just Gwaine, leaning there in most of his armour, examining his hands. 

“His majesty sent for me,” Gwaine says, at Merlin’s grouchy look. 

“Come back later,” Merlin says. “He’s bathing.”

Arthur comes up behind Merlin, though, a towel around his hips. He takes the door from Merlin and opens it widely enough for Gwaine to enter. Gwaine and Merlin exchange questioning looks, but neither of them know more than the other. They stand in the middle of the room, whispering theories about what trouble Gwaine’s got into now, while Arthur retreats behind the screen and dresses himself. He comes out in his underthings, shivering. Merlin gets him his long, soft jacket, and wraps it around his shoulders. Arthur coughs, sighs, and coughs.

“Alright?” Gwaine asks. 

“Fine,” Arthur says. “I have a slight chill, is all. Now, Lord Gwaine, son of Orkney, I have need of you.”

“Fuck,” Gwaine says. 

“No way!” Merlin crows, laughing, finally getting the joke. Arthur grins across at him. 

Arthur finally manages to convince Gwaine to go along with it by suggesting Gwaine just pop out a few kids, and they’ll get the succession. Also with the promise that no one else will know of the succession, and Gwaine can continue to be knight and risk his life. 

“Can you do that?” Merlin asks, when Gwaine’s gone. 

“I’ll just put everything in the name of Orkney,” Arthur says with a shrug. “I knew he’d make that stipulation.”

“Do you think he’ll get married, now?” Merlin says. 

“Inevitably,” Arthur says. “He doesn’t want the throne, and he knows that an heir is the only way out. Well, unless he refuses to help me. Which would mean refusing you, so he won’t.”

“He loves you, as well,” Merlin says. 

“Oh, surely, but you. Well. I’m happy to use his loyalty to and love for you,” Arthur says. 

“I’m not,” Merlin says, softly, looking down at his hands. Arthur reaches over to rub his shoulder. 

“I won’t do it. I never would. He’ll do it out of duty to me,” Arthur says. “I will make it clear that you… that you don’t come into it.”

“Thank you,” Merlin says. 

“Always. Merlin, that tea is all very well, but my head’s pounding.”

“You’re tired. Will you rest? Until you’re needed at court?”

“Will you come with me?” Arthur asks, his turn to look away from Merlin, cheeks flushing brighter red against his paleness. 

“Of course. Did the steam from the bath help? You sound less congested.”

Arthur nods listlessly, and gets to his feet. He lets Merlin hold his elbow, back to the bed, and guide him. He curls up, shutting his eyes, and Merlin notices how bright his eyes are. He gets into bed with Arthur and wraps around him, pulling the covers over them, holding Arthur close. He shushes him and strokes his hair, and Arthur sniffs, sighs. 

“I’m so tired,” he whispers. “Maybe I’m unwell after all. More than just a little.”

“I will pass that on to your council, and they will postpone the signing. Annis will wait. Geoffrey has known you since you were a child, we’ll see him here, in your rooms. Leon will appear at the feast.”

“Yes, alright.”

“Is the pain that bad?” Merlin asks, surprised by the lack of resistance.

“My head just hurts, and I just want to stay here. You’ll stay?”

“Always,” Merlin says.


End file.
